


I'm No Good For You

by Sneakyfox55



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Frisk (Undertale) Is a Sweetheart, Frisk REALLY needs a hug, Frisk is around eleven, Frisk just wants what's best, Gen, Gender-Neutral Frisk (Undertale), Hurt/Comfort, Mental Breakdown, No Romance, Platonic Relationships, Poor thing, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, References to Depression, Sans (Undertale) Remembers Resets, Self-Denial, Self-Harm, Self-Reflection, Undertale Saves and Resets, Why Did I Write This?, Worried Sans (Undertale), refusal of food, self-deprivation, self-harm that isn't cutting, set like a year after, sort of inspired by a song, this just makes me more depressed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23151475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sneakyfox55/pseuds/Sneakyfox55
Summary: Frisk realizes their time is up.
Relationships: Frisk & Sans (Undertale), Frisk (Undertale) & Everyone
Comments: 8
Kudos: 77
Collections: My stuff, Undertale





	1. Nothing is Better

**Author's Note:**

> so i've been listening to Erik Satie's Gymnopédie No.1 for the past hour and it just made me think of a really sad idea and overall made me kinda depressed, so here you go
> 
> Please read the tags for warnings/triggers!
> 
> (also, yes, the titles are references to Billie Eilish's when the part's over, i couldn't help myself)

They watched the car silently through the window as it pulled into the driveway, Christmas lights glued all over its surface and glowing in the dim light of the winter evening. They saw two figures jump out through the top and over the car, though two others chose to abide by the safety laws and climb out through the actual doors.

They smiled, but not out of happiness; rather, a feeling of knowing what was to come. Knowing this charade had the possibility of ending, no matter how hard they tried.

So they smiled, sadly, because they knew it was just a cruel joke: this act of pretending.

They smiled because they knew it would be over soon.

* * *

When their friends came in to hug them, each one separately, each one just as affectionate and warm as the last, they kept smiling, because they didn't want to do otherwise and make it seem anything was off. And they pretended in front of him, too, though some part of them figured he might be able to see through their act. He was always able to read them pretty easily.

But they hoped that wouldn't happen tonight.

They hoped he wasn't on his guard, like he always was, even though they knew he'd never _not_ be able to see right through them.

...But he did.

He saw right through their smiles, and their hand movements, and the way they surveyed their surroundings.

Toriel came to give them some food. They refused, said they weren't hungry. He noticed that too.

And they knew he did.

And they hoped he wouldn't say anything.

* * *

After dinner—after refusing to eat anything they were given, no matter how much prodding they received from everyone—the time came to open presents. They waited for their turn, watching their friends opening their gifts before them, watching the way each of their eyes lit up every time they opened a gift that was from them specifically. They let themselves be pulled into embrace after embrace, and returned them like they thoroughly enjoyed it; like it didn't bother them.

They didn't want to open their presents, but Toriel more or less forced them to, and they gave in. They continued to laugh, and grin all the while, pretending, pretending it was fine, and they just didn't want to open presents because they wanted to save the excitement for tomorrow, when Christmas officially came. They wondered if again, they were see-through in that regard. They knew Sans could see it. But what about the others? They really hoped they couldn't see.

They would worry. Their friends didn't need to worry. They were hurting, but it was okay.

Alphys mentioned they looked abnormally pale, once they finished thanking everyone for the gifts they were personally given. They just smiled at her, like always, saying they just hadn't gotten much sun due to the snow and cold weather.

Papyrus pointed out they looked really tired, and that their eyes were droopy. They just smiled and said they were up late last night working on something for school, a new science experiment the teacher had assigned them.

Sans said they looked unmotivated. They couldn't focus on anything around them. Again, they smiled.

"I'm fine," Frisk responded. "Just really tired, like I said."

But Sans stared at them closely, not quite believing.

"you're not okay."

They were. It was okay. And they repeated as much, but the skeleton narrowed his eyes at them.

"you're lying."

"No," they said, too quickly.

They could feel everyone staring at them. The eyes on them.

_The glares, right? They were glaring, right? Weren't they?_

They stumbled to their feet, the ringing in their ears intensifying; they didn't even know a ringing had even begun. Their stomach ached, their muscles ached, everything _ached_ , and they felt weak but they continued away, even as they heard the protests behind them.

_The protests. The screams. Begging them to stop, to turn around, take a different path, make a better choice._

_They couldn't. They couldn't, it was too late, they **couldn't—**_

"wait, Frisk—!"

They shut their bedroom door behind them with a bang, cutting off Sans's voice from far away. Was he still with the others? Had he followed them? Where was his voice coming from?

_Where was he?_

_What had they done to him?_

_Why could they still hear his voice?_

_Hadn't they killed—_

Frisk felt their vision blur. Their head hurt now, too. Their chest felt tight. They started breathing heavily. Their knees gave out and they fell backwards, hitting the wooden part of their bed roughly. They didn't even yelp. They barely processed the pain, their thoughts already swimming in their head crazily.

Too much. It was too much.

_He was right._

_It was their fault._

Why were they doing this?

Why were they still here?

What were they trying to prove?

_It was useless._

Their tears rolled hotly down their cheeks, causing a slight burning sensation on their face. They bubbled out a sob, raising shaky hands to run them through their tangled up hair, pulling at the fringes as though inflicting pain elsewhere might redirect it to something less intense. Or more intense. They didn't care.

_They didn't deserve anything more than this suffering._

_They didn't deserve anything less than pain._

_They didn't deserve **them**._

So Frisk lay down on the floor, curled up into a ball, letting the pain consume them until they could feel nothing else. They let their eyes slide shut, blocking out the world, blocking out everything that was good and bright and allowing themselves to be surrounded by their own destruction.

They didn't notice the door opening.


	2. Let Me Let You Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, this one's kinda clunkier than the last haha
> 
> i tried tying everything together in a good way? but i've been feeling pretty unmotivated so i don't know, feel free to give me your feedback on it!

A month ago, Sans started noticing something off.

At first, it was just little things; they didn’t snack as much. They didn’t want to go outside as much. Okay, fair enough. Toriel had advised them to cut down on the junk food, and it was the winter months.

Then they stopped coming over all the time. Well, they had been busy with school. Again, nothing big. Nothing to worry about.

And then... They started looking pale. Too pale. They were missing hair in some spots, and those spots were abnormally red. Irritated. Sore.

They’d sometimes have scratches on their arms. Claimed they’d just been playing with something sharp. That in itself was... Questionable, at best. If that were the case, why where they playing with something dangerous in the first place?

And, if they were ever asked about it... Nothing.

More excuses. More dodging, more avoiding.

If they were upset, they never said anything about it, even if prodded.

They shut themselves off from everyone.

Of course, last time they’d also been behaving weird, it was right before a reset. And at first, he considered that; but this felt... Different. It didn’t feel like something normal. It didn’t seem _right_.

And it... Scared him.

Not because it was something new, or unpredictable. Not because it might still have to do with their resets in a way.

It scared him because he recognized this kind of behavior.

He knew what it looked like. He knew what it felt like.

He knew what they were doing.

And it was hurting them. It gave them more pain than a child their age should _ever_ have to go through, regardless of their actions.

He called Toriel, just to make sure. She said they weren’t eating. They pretended to, but she knew better.

It obviously wasn’t the only thing they were doing; but it was enough to confirm his suspicions.

So, Sans decided, from that point on, it was going to end.

He was the one that proposed the idea of everyone coming over for Christmas.

He kept a close eye on them the entire time, gauging their every movement, every action.

They smiled too much.

That was one of the telltale signs. He’d know that better than anyone.

And when they left for their bedroom, intent on being alone, he realized he couldn’t just let them.

He thanked the stars above they’d accidentally left the door unlocked.

* * *

They didn’t rest easy.

It was like fighting a losing battle; one minute, they’d think they were awake, and the next, they were being thrown into another dream—or rather, a nightmare.

It was a cycle. A cycle plagued with torture, and blood, and sins, and _dust_...

_And then they woke up._

_Sunlight filtered in through their bedroom window. It was warm, comforting. Soothing._

_They kicked the blankets off them and crawled to the window._ _It was a beautiful day outside. They could heard the faint singing of birds from somewhere. They could see flowers blooming._

_They closed their eyes._

_When they opened them again, there was still sun; but the room had changed._

_They were standing in a long hallway, a golden one, with huge pillars and looming windows. The light was almost blinding. It wasn’t warm anymore. It was cold. They didn’t hear birds_ _;_ _instead they heard the tolling of a bell._

_They shivered. Something was crawling on their back._

_When they looked,_ _nothing was there._

_Did they imagine it...?_

_No._

_No, they still felt it._

_They glanced ahead, in front of them, at the other end of the hallway. Someone was there. Another human. Was it just a mirror...?_

_No. This human was different. They had a yellow-and-green striped shirt, and lighter brown hair, bordering on red. Their eyes were a deep crimson, like their soul._

_They knew who it was._

_The first human._

_Their partner._

_Frisk tried opening their mouth, to say something, but nothing came. It was like something had removed their tongue altogether._

_They looked down, taking in more of their surroundings, and found they were holding something; something that glinted in the artificial sunlight._

_“Your fault.”_

_Frisk turned their eyes back to their former partner. The ghost’s eyes had changed. They were frowning._

_“It is your fault,” they said, again. “You did this.”_

_Frisk didn’t argue. They couldn’t. But they couldn’t drop the knife, either. Their knife._

_Chara’s_ _expression changed again. Their eyes began oozing black liquid. Their mouth twisted on their face further, almost inhumanly._

_“YOUR fault,” they hissed once more._

_They knew that. They knew it was, Frisk wasn’t an_ **_idiot_ ** _—_

_That thought cut itself off._

_Chara was gone._

_Somebody else was there. Lying on the floor._

_Frisk walked over, the only action they’d been wanting to do thus far._

_When_ _they saw who it was, they continued walking, closer, closer, even closer._

_He hadn’t turned to dust yet. The red liquid continued to pour out of him, like a flood._

_He saw them. He stared up at them. His eye-lights were hazy, tiny. He was terrified._

_They wanted to stop themselves. But their arm was lifting._

**_Your fault,_ ** _Chara’s_ _voice kept repeating in their head._ **_Your fault._ **

_They grabbed the knife with both hands now, hovering over the skeleton’s body._

**_Your fault._ **

_Sans just kept staring at them._ _Waiting._

**_YOUR FAULT._ **

_Hot_ _t_ _ears poured down their face, and they plunged the knife down, right into their friend’s chest, right into his soul, a loud crack ringing through the air, just like the birds, just like the bell._

_Sans looked at them, beginning to dissolve, and grinned._

**_Y O U R F A U L T !_ **

And then they woke up.

Frisk started flailing as soon as they became conscious, startling Sans as he had just then set them down on their bed.

“woah, woah, hey!” He raised his hands in a placating gesture, “relax, kid, everything’s fine!”

They heard him, but didn’t respond, only continued breathe heavily as he slowly moved back. How long had they been unconscious? It couldn’t have been long, so why did...?

_What were those dreams about?_

They... They didn’t know. They didn’t _want_ to know, all they wanted was—

“uh, Frisk...? you ok—”

They pushed him roughly away as he tried to reach towards them, quickly scooching themselves backwards until their back hit the bed-frame. They winced, and again, the skeleton moved forward, as though to help them in some way. They slapped him away a second time, snapping, “Get away from me.”

Sans faltered, looking almost hurt by their hostility; immediately, the hostility itself faltered, and their vision quickly blurred. “Wait, I—I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry—”

“Frisk, it’s okay,” he began, but they didn’t let him continue.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—” Their hands instinctively moved to their hair, “It’s all my fault—”

They felt his hands gently grab their arms. “hey, hey, don’t... ‘s fine.”

Frisk just shook their head, croaking, “It’s not, I...” They started pulling at their hair, and Sans’s hold on them tightened.

“don’t do that. please.”

“But I—it’s all my fault—”

“look at me.”

They paused in their yanking of their hair, looking at him pitifully; a flash of their dream crossed their mind, of him lying on the floor, turning to dust, and they let out a sudden sob. Before they could push him away again—for his own safety, they thought—he suddenly pulled them up against him. Their face involuntarily buried into his shirt, and they tried to move away only for his arms to wrap around them and forcefully bring them closer.

“kiddo, listen to me,” he said softly, rubbing small circles into their back. “this isn’t okay. you can’t keep doin’ this to yourself.”

“I _need_ to!” They tried to struggle against him again, to no avail. Frustrated, they tried kicking him away instead.

“Frisk, you need he—”

“I don’t _want_ help!” they cried, kicking him in the sternum. He let them go, mostly out of shock, and they scrambled backwards onto their bed, gasping for air as sobs wracked their small frame. “I don’t want _any_ of this!”

“what’s wrong with—”

“ _Nothing_! _That’s_ the problem! That’s always the problem, that’s _always_ —”

They moved again as his hands came to comfort them once more. Helplessly, he let them drop to his sides, looking at them with a frown.

(Had they ever seen him frown before?)

Frisk ignored the thought, bringing their legs to their chest, hugging them tightly enough to where it almost hurt. “I don’t deserve it,” they tried to spit out, but it came out as more of a blubber. “I don’t, I _don’t_. That’s why—” They hiccuped. “—that’s why I can’t _do_ it anymore, I _can’t_ , I know I’m going to mess up _everything_!”

“you think i don’t get that?”

Frisk stopped. They opened their mouth, closed it, opened it again. No words came.

“you think you’re alone in this?” Sans stared at them calmly, his smile still twisted into an uncharacteristic frown. “i’m not new to this. i know what you’re going through.”

“This—”

“i know, it’s not exactly the same. but—”

“But I don’t want to hurt you.”

This time, he stopped. Frisk merely looked at him, eyes still glistening with unshed tears.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Sans,” they repeated, voice cracking painfully. “That’s what I’m trying to say. That’s my point. I don’t... I shouldn’t be here.”

The skeleton stared back at them. “Frisk...”

“I’ll find a way,” they choked out suddenly, forcing a quick smile, “I don’t _have_ to be here anymore, I can—”

“Frisk.”

“—I could find a way where the timeline doesn’t reset when I leave, everyone would—”

“kiddo, don’t.”

“—I wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone anymore!”

They laughed a little; sounding a bit deranged, maybe, but the idea was foolproof, honestly. Of course, why hadn’t they thought of it before?! Yes, without them, things would revert back to normal! Everyone would be happy!

“thinking like that isn’t healthy,” Sans murmured slowly.

“But things would finally be okay!” They kept smiling, holding their arms out, “Everyone can be free!”

“no—”

“You’ll be free of me, Sans!”

Their smile fell as they met his gaze, finding his eyes had gone dark.

“you’re not thinking clearly, kid,” he stated quietly.

“But I don’t want to hurt you!” they said again desperately. “I promise, I’ll find a way, just—”

“no.”

“But I can—”

“no!”

They choked on their words, sniffled, and wiped their eyes again. “Please, Sans. Hear me out.”

“ _no_ ,” the skeleton reiterated once more, forcefully. “you’re not gonna...”

“Sans. Please.”

He hesitated. Then he shook his head. 

“ _Please_ ,” they croaked, desperately.

When he didn’t budge, they sank into their bed further, their body feeling tired. They let out a small whimper, covering their eyes with their arm, to block out the world, to avoid facing it.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” they sobbed once more, voice bordering on a pained wail.

When he didn’t respond, they felt another sob bubbling up in their throat. _He’s ignoring me. He hates me. Of course he does, why wouldn’t—_

They didn’t get to finish that thought.

Instead, they were pulled close to him again, his arms wrapping around them protectively.

“i don’t want you to hurt either,” he said, so softly, they almost didn’t hear it at first. “and i’m not gonna let you hurt yourself just to help everyone else.”

“Sans—”

His grip on them tightened, but didn’t become any less gentle. “dammnit, kid, i don’t _want_ to be free of you.” He inhaled sharply, like he was on the verge of crying himself. “i love you, you’re my best friend. i don’t want to lose you.”

A fresh set of tears bubbled up behind Frisk’s eyes as they said weakly, “I don’t want to lose _you_. If I stay here, I’ll...”

“you won’t. i _know_ you won’t. if you wanted to, i wouldn’t _be_ here, for stars’ sake.”

“But...”

They trailed off, mostly because he’d started shaking slightly. Finally, they let themselves hug him back, whispering a small, “I’m sorry.”

“i know, kiddo. i know. just...”

“What?”

They pulled away slightly, blinking at him.

“promise me something,” said Sans, seriously. They nodded in acceptance. “promise me you’ll take care of yourself from now on.”

Frisk flinched.

“I...”

“please?” he practically pleaded. “if not for you right now, then for the people that care about you.”

They bit their lip contemplatively.

“that’s all we really want, Frisk.”

Gently, he moved their tangled strands of hair out of their face.

“that’s what will really make us happy.”

They closed their eyes.

When they opened them again, Sans was looking at them hopefully.

Not hatefully.

Not fearfully.

Hopefully.

Because he still cared about them.

Despite everything, he cared.

So... Perhaps...

Just maybe...

Maybe things could change.

Maybe _they_ could change.

Maybe, the others would still care, too.

And so, with that thought in mind, Frisk smiled.

They weren’t pretending this time.

“I promise,” they told Sans earnestly.

Sans looked at them, and grinned.

He ruffled their hair affectionately, saying, “let’s get you somethin’ to eat, ‘kay?” His grin softened.

Frisk nodded, and followed him downstairs—only to be pulled back into more embraces from the rest of their friends. It turned out, _everyone_ had been worried about them. They hadn’t been very subtle, after all.

Especially in keeping their knowledge of the resets.

At first, they wanted to beat themselves up for it; for making everyone worry about them anyway, despite their efforts. For being such a horrible friend, and lying to them, even when they knew the truth.

...But, for once, they let it be.

For once, they didn’t let their faults, or sins control their every being. Despite the mistakes they’d made, they didn’t have to always be condemned for them.

Despite everything, they’d always have someone that cared about them.

And, because of that, they couldn’t stop smiling.


End file.
